25 Days With Mr. Arrogant - A Harry Styles fanfiction

CHAPTER 4:

I’d never loathed the sound of my cell phone as much as in that moment – its continuous loud echo vibrated persistently on my end table and caused rage to course through my veins. I ignored it, however, and rolled my face into the soft, cool material of my pillow, sighing in content when my dark room was filled with the comfortable silence once more.

It didn’t last long.

That damn ringtone resonated through the air again, the vibration humming noisily against the solid surface of the table, and I groaned, rubbing my face roughly into the pillow.

“For fucks sake…”

Rolling onto my side, I reached blindly for the phone, my limp fingers grasping it weakly and bringing it to my ear.

“Hel…hello?”

“Ignoring my calls?”

My eyes shot open upon the recognition of the deep, male voice on the other line.

Oh, Jesus…

“Harry,” I sighed, reaching up to rub at my temples.

“Were you busy?” He demanded irritably, “Is that why I had to call twice for you to pick up?”

“No,” I mumbled. “I was just… sleeping.”

“Do you know what time it is?”

I let my head loll to the side, my gaze locking on the neon numbers of my alarm clock. I groaned, my eyelids fluttering closed again. “It’s seven thirty.”

“Right,” He snapped. “And I’m fucking hungry.”

I inhaled slowly, lying still within the warm confines of my blankets. “Then eat.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” He seethed. “I’m fucking starving and its day one of our contract. Get your ass out of the bed and feed me.”

“Excuse me?” I hissed, sitting up in my bed and ignoring the sudden dizziness that overcame my vision from the sudden movement. “Who the hell do you think you – “

“Be here in half an hour,” He interrupted evenly. “I expect you here with something edible in thirty minutes.”

“But I – “

“No excuses,” He snapped. “And I’m in no mood for cereal or eggs.”

I scowled. “Then what is it you want?”

“Surprise me,” He drawled.

“Well that doesn’t leave me with many options,” I sneered. “I told you I can’t cook.”

“Thirty minutes.”

Click.

Setting the phone down with a shaky hand, I let my body fall back into the blankets. I turned my face into the pillow, inhaled slowly, and let out a muffled scream.

Paige was up, humming to herself in the kitchen as she poured a golden-colored batter into a waffle maker. She smiled when I emerged from the bedroom, clad in wrinkled sweats and a loose hooded sweatshirt.

“You’re up early,” She observed, pressing the iron waffle grill closed. “You’re never up this early on a Sunday.”

“I have some errands to run,” I yawned, glancing around the living room for my set of keys. When I noticed the subtle suspicion in her gaze, I cleared my throat, elaborating, “For a, uh, for a project.”

“Well, I have some breakfast if you want,” She nodded towards a plate of waffles, steaming lightly and smelling absolutelyheavenly. I was so grateful to have Paige as my roommate – her cooking skills were fantastic. “There’s even some chocolate chips in them.” She motioned to the bag of brown chips next to her, adding with a smile, “Your favorite.”